Normal Is the Watchword
by NuttyElla
Summary: After leaving Sam hot and bothered in 1.07, Andy returns to her apartment but can't sleep due to thoughts of him and the shooting. Distracted, she doesn't notice the intruder until she feels the gun at her back. As if her day couldn't get any worse...
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Hello lovely FF readers! I've been lurking around for a while and finally decided to join the fray by creating an account so that I can_

_a) properly review everyone's wonderful stories and_  
><em>b) post my first story (which is hopefully wonderful enough to prompt you to leave a review)<em>

_Some of the details from Season 1 are a little fuzzy for me so if I get something wrong feel free to PM me or just ignore the mistake. This story starts right after 1x07, Hot and Bothered. Not sure how long it's going to be yet, although it'll definitely be less than 20 chapters. The only thing I _can_ guarantee is that it's McSwarek._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue or any of its characters. Title is respectfully borrowed from a Veronica Mars episode because I couldn't come up with anything of my own. ;-)_

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

By the fifteenth sheep, Andy decided that whoever created this mental exercise was a moron.

First of all, could sheep even jump that high? She could pick out poison oak from 30 feet away, but her knowledge-or lack thereof-of livestock was a whole different story. So supposing sheep could jump several feet high to get over a fence, why would they bother, let alone in single file? Unless it was a solid wooden fence, the sheep wouldn't have to jump over it to figure out if the grass was really greener over there. And anyone who jumps over a fence without being able to see what is on the other side is either really stupid or really desperate. Usually it was both, in her experience.

Wouldn't it make more sense to envision, oh, say bunnies jumping over a fence? Heck, even frogs would work. But those species were probably both small enough to sneak under the fence so why would they waste the energy going over it?

Oh, man. She was losing it.

Actually, she was pretty sure she'd already lost it. You know, about three hour agos when she showed up at Sam's door and basically jumped his bones, then jumped off said bones three minutes later. She'd been called a tease before, but this was the first time she actually felt like the shoe fit. And damn if it didn't give her a blister.

The entire walk back to her apartment Andy had replayed those delectable three minutes over and over again in her head, kind of like when she got hooked on a new song and kept it on repeat until she got sick of it (usually a couple hundred plays later). When she had hit replay number 327 of her and Sam, she had worried that she might never get sick of it. Never get sick of Sam.

At least it kept her from thinking about the shooting.

The three bullet holes in the man's chest. The dark pool of blood under his head. The slight scent of gunpowder that hung in the air. The faint ringing in her ears from the shots. The tremble in her hands that still hadn't gone away. The sound of Sam saying, "It's okay."

If he hadn't shown up, she's pretty sure that she would still be standing uselessly, staring at the body of that sick pervert while that poor little girl-Iesha-was still tied up. If his touch didn't burn her skin and ignite her heart, she'd still be sobbing on her couch about the hollowness that had formed inside of her for killing a man, regardless of the fact that she didn't have a choice. Call her crazy, but after shooting a serial rapist and getting hot and heavy with Sam, she truly doubted that things would ever get back to normal.

When she had reached her place, Andy realized that while the power may have come back on in Sam's neighborhood, her block was still without and therefore unairconditioned, which really sucked because she was hot and bothered-and not because of the walk back. No, her discomfort had nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with a man who just happened to be as unpredictable as the former.

She huffed out a long breath of air. Normally, this would flutter the bangs away from her face for a few seconds, but they were matted to her forehead and didn't move a centimeter. The power clearly wasn't going to come back on any time soon and she doubted she'd be able to fall asleep even if the AC could cool her place off.

She couldn't sleep.

She couldn't even consider thinking about the shooting anymore.

She couldn't stop thinking about Sam.

She couldn't stop replaying the earlier...activities of the evening.

She couldn't stop from wanting to go back to Sam's and take up right where they'd left off.

So, she gave in to the only option left for her.

Cleaning.

Andy grabbed her iPod off of her dresser and got to work. She finished the bathroom and headed for the kitchen, ready to conquer the crusty dishes before they started growing fuzz. Absorbed in the current song blasting through the earbuds and scrubbing at leftover cheese sauce on a plate, she didn't hear the lock to her front door being picked, the chain being cut, nor the man sneaking up behind her.

A hand snaked around her head, dislodging one of the earbuds before clamping over her mouth. Simultaneously, she felt the unmistakable cool metal of gun pressed into her lower back through her thin cotton tank top. Andy froze, trying to figure out if there was any way in hell she could somehow get her own piece from the lockbox in her room before he shot her. Yeah, right.

"Don't make a sound," he directed calmly. "If you do, I will shoot you. Do what I say, when I say it. Nod if you understand."

Andy moved her chin down slightly.

"Good. Now I'm going to remove my hand from your mouth. You're not going to scream or cry or make any noise."

Another nod. He removed his left hand.

She considered yelling, thinking one of her neighbors might wake up and call the police. Although, considering she _was_ the police, they might be more likely to come knock on her door instead of picking up the phone to dial her _armed_ on-duty co-workers. Andy had a feeling this man wouldn't hesitate to shoot anyone who interrupted them. Based on the tone of his voice and his actions, she didn't think this was the first time he had done this and didn't doubt for a second that he would put a bullet in her or anyone who tried to interfere. Best to let her neighbor slumber in ignorance and hopefully live to see the sunrise. Or the power come back on, at least.

With the gun still pressed firmly into her back, the man continued, "We're going to slowly walk to your bedroom."

If she wasn't tense before, Andy became absolutely rigid at this statement. _Oh God_, she thought. Dressed in only a pair of panties and a tank top, she hadn't even had time to consider the man's reasons for breaking into her apartment and holding her at gunpoint. What if he wanted to rape her? She could barely think the words in her mind without wanting to heave, let alone believe that it was a very real possibility.

Why, why hadn't she gone back to Sam's like she'd wanted to? Then none of this would be happening and she'd probably already be on her third orgasm, if the few minutes she'd spent in Sam's arms earlier were any indication.

Thinking of Sam reminded Andy that she was a cop-a good cop, with months of training and a few months in the field and damned if she wasn't going to try her hardest to get away from this guy. He invaded her home, her privacy, her safehaven, and she was going to fight him every step of the way no matter what he threatened to get whatever it was that he wanted.

Now that she'd regrown her backbone, if not into steel, then at least wood, Andy began to slowly move her hands through the dishwater they were still submerged in, searching for the chef's knife that she knew she hadn't washed yet.

Knowing she had only a split second before the man noticed what she was doing or became impatient by her lack of movement toward the bedroom, Andy finally grasped the familiar handle firmly in her right hand. It was now or never.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: I know, cliffhangers are mean. And I know there was no Sam in the last chapter, and he's not in this one either, but I promise he's in the next one._

_Is anyone else really curious about how Frank and Noelle's dinner meeting/date went? I hope it comes up in next week's episode!_

_I'm floored by all of the reviews! I'm so glad so many of you liked the first chapter. There were also a lot of story alerts-if you are enjoying the story, I'd love for you to review and let me know that if you haven't already. I hope you like this chapter!_

_Special thanks to __**Quixotically **__for pointing out an inconsistency in the original version of this chapter about the power in Andy's neighborhood that is now fixed._

_Thanks for reading!_

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

Quickly she spun around to her left and raised the knife, intent on plunging it into the side of his neck. Originally Andy had planned on aiming for his heart but realized that she might not be accurate or strong enough to get through his ribs. Turning so quickly made her unsteady and she ended up grabbing the elbow of his arm that was holding the gun.

Either he had noticed what she was doing or had incredibly fast reflexes. Before Andy could figure out what happened his left hand shot up and caught her forearm, redirecting her intended blow across the front of her body and into her left arm.

She dropped the knife and barely had time to register the burning in her arm before a new pain spread across her cheek as the man struck her with the butt of the gun, knocking her to the ground.

"That...was a very stupid thing to do," he stated, staring at her sprawled form on the groud as she clutched one hand to her throbbing cheek and one to her stinging arm. Thankfully the blade didn't go directly through her arm but slashed through the top of it, leaving a deep gash. Blood steadily dripped from the wound to pool on the floor. Andy had the vague thought that it would probably stain the white linoleum if it didn't get cleaned up right away.

Looking completey unruffled, the man grabbed a dishtowel from the counter and threw it at Andy, who wrapped it around her arm to try to stem the flow of blood.

"Get up."

With the help of the refrigerator door handle, Andy managed to make it to her feet, albeit shakily. She was still trying to process how everything could have gone so wrong, so quickly.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Andy asked, trying to sound more together than she really was.

Her mind was whirring with the possibilities: sexual assault, robbery, revenge-but for what? Now that she was facing him, she took a good look at his unremarkable-and unfamiliar-face. Brown eyes, brown hair. No distinguishing scars or features. Simple navy t-shirt and jeans. He was probably a few inches taller than her, putting him around 5'10 or so. The man was completely average-except for the cold menace in his eyes. _That_ was the only thing to set him apart.

He ignored her question. "Are you going to try anything like that again?"

Andy shook her head. She may have had months of training and on the job experience, but she wasn't stupid. This man had years on her. She wasn't stupid. Or desperate-yet.

He motioned for her to move toward the bedroom. Andy walked slowly as red splotches of blood from her still bleeding arm fell on the carpet, marking her progress. Those stains were going to be so tough to remove. The man followed a couple of feet behind her, the gun still trained on her back.

Andy tried not to look at her bed, hoping that it wasn't involved in whatever his plan was for her.

"You don't want to do this. I'm a police officer," she said, hoping that might encourage him to reconsider her as his victim.

"As I'm well aware, Officer McNally. Now put on some clothes."

She practically sighed in relief. At least he didn't tell her to take them off.

"What kind? And how do you know who I am?" she asked.

"Doesn't matter. Just hurry up and do it or you'll go in what you're wearing," he replied, ignoring her second question.

So he wasn't going to do whatever he was planning on here in her apartment. Good to know.

Andy grabbed a pair of jeans off the floor. The same jeans she was wearing when her legs had been wrapped around Sam's waist several hours ago...

No, no. She couldn't think about him right now. Not when there was a gun pointed at her by a man who wasn't afraid to use it. At least to smack her across the face, although she figured he was comfortable with pulling the trigger, too.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, trying to tug the denim up with one hand while still holding the towel to her injured arm.

He seemed entirely too at ease with this situation. "The Gemini Awards. Let's go."

Great. Only she would have a scary, gun-wielding _wiseass_ break into her apartment.

Slipping on a pair of sneakers, Andy glanced longingly at the black lockbox holding her gun but knew it was futile. Supressing a sigh, she left the bedroom-but not before she saw him drop a piece of paper on her pillow. A ransom note?

She didn't have time to ponder it before the nozzle of the gun was reacquainted with her vertebrae.

"Don't move," he instructed as they paused outside of the bathroom. As much as she didn't want to, Andy obeyed him, considering how well her last attempt to escape _hadn't_ worked out. He wasn't going to actually go the bathroom, was he? Because that would just be _awkward_. Who took a bathroom break in the middle of a home invasion while holding a hostage?

The gun disappeared from her back momentarily. When the man returned a couple of seconds later he gave Andy the hand towel that normally hung above her bathroom sink. He must've noticed that her arm was still bleeding; she was worried that it would need stitches and he clearly wasn't going to be taking her to the hospital to get them.

As she replaced the sodden kitchen towel with the fresh one, she barely managed to restrain herself from saying thanks. Because who wouldn't thank the man that broke into her apartment, held her at gunpoint, slashed her with a knife (sort of), and then gave her a towel to staunch the bleeding that was really his fault?

At least her captor didn't want her to bleed to death. While it should have provided her with a small degree of comfort, it really just made her anxious about what he wanted to keep her alive for.

Even though he hadn't actually answered any of her other questions, she decided to keep trying. Maybe he'd slip up and give away some identifying information.

"What should I call you? Usually I'm on at least a first name basis with guys who have seen me in my underwear." She hoped she didn't sound as terrified as she really was. Fake it 'til you make it, right?

He sighed almost imperceptibly. "Paul. No more questions. Now move."

They made it to the front door. Up until this point, Andy had remained relatively calm, thinking that she could come up with some way to incapacitate the intruder to get away. Now they were about to walk out of her apartment when she had no gun, no cell phone, nothing that could help her call for help or gain the upper hand in this situation.

"We're going to walk out of the building and get into the car that's waiting," he said as he moved to her side. "No more talking or funny business. I believe you're still bleeding from your last attempt." He smirked.

Andy was tempted to try something just to wipe the smirk off of his face. Unfortunately, she had a feeling all she would get from the attempt would be a bullet.

She didn't say anything. He motioned for her to open the door, which was awkward since she was still holding the towel to one arm, but she managed.

The man followed her out the door and closed it behind them. He didn't bother locking the door.

Andy knew she should be worried, especially since she'd seen his face and could give a description of him. She didn't want to think about the fact that maybe he didn't bother hiding his face because he knew she'd never get a chance to report this, let alone return to her apartment.

She nearly jumped when he wrapped an arm around her shoulder as he pressed closer, the gun digging into her side. The pose was that of a boyfriend and girlfriend, which creeped her out but didn't enable her to do anything. So far, all she knew was that he didn't want to rape her or let her bleed to death. At least in her apartment. That still left way too many possibilities.

Andy decided it was best not to dwell on such thoughts.

They walked out to a black SUV with tinted windows; at least she thought they were tinted. It was hard to tell, considering it was the middle of the night and everything was dark, including the street lamps due to the power outage. Andy furtively glanced around, hoping to see someone, _anyone_, out on the streets at three in the morning. Unfortunately, all she heard was a dog barking. Everyone was tucked safely inside their homes, sleeping as soundly as they could with the heat and no air conditioning.

As they neared the curb, the back door opened. The man unceremoniously shoved Andy in, shut the door, and climbed into the front passenger seat. Within seconds, the car pulled away onto the deserted street, leaving Andy feeling both hopeless and helpless. How was anyone going to find her? She wasn't even supposed to be at work until the investigation of the shooting was complete and she was cleared, which would take at least a day.

She felt the presence of at least one other person in the back with her but couldn't see him or her yet. No interior light came on when the door was opened and it took Andy's eyes a minute to adjust. When they did, she barely stifled her gasp upon seeing the familiar face.

"Officer McNally, so nice to see you again," he smiled.

Just as she noticed someone else in the row behind them, something struck the back of her head and her world went black.

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><p><em>Any guesses about who the familiar face is?<em>


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